The Last Battle
by JordanTucker19
Summary: The Time War is over. Gallifrey Falls No More. The Doctors are returning to their own time streams. But Rassilon has other plans. Leading his High Council against a divided Gallifrey, The War Council calls upon The Doctors once more to save them.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Gallifrey Rises.

The Doctor lay motionless and wounded. The glass from the ceiling lay shattered around him. He lifted his head heavily off the marble floor of the Naismith Mansion and stared up at the white light before him. A blurred vision of Burgundy and Crimson robes stood before him, their words fading in and out of his consciousness. The booming voice of Rassilon rang out through the room.

"You are a disease, My Lord Master. Albeit a disease of our own creation. You infect and spread your power driven pox in the minds of your victims. Even this body you now inhabit is simply a shell. You must be purged."

The Lord President extended his gauntleted arm and thrust his index finger forward. The Master screamed as he collapsed to his knees, clutching his temple. The Doctor swung his head to face his mortal enemy and in his blazing eyes, he saw the boy he had befriended all those years ago. Reaching a cut and bruised hand, The Doctor took up the Webley Revolver that Wilfrid had gifted him, rose to his feet, and stood battered and broken against his foe.

As he tried to stand his legs caved in beneath him and he stumbled backwards. His arms dropped to his sides and he felt the weight of the blood and bones that ran the course of his body. The screams of The Master were silenced by the drawing of the hammer on the revolver. The weak and broken Doctor, aimed the barrel directly at Rassilon's temple. The Lord President's face became an expression of thunder and rage as few words barely escaped his enemies mouth.

"Leave...him...alone"

"You have chosen your enemy poorly Doctor!" Rassilon roared. "The Master is but one. We are many. We are legion! I am the God of Timelords!"

Rassilon raised the gauntlet to his eye level and splayed his fingers. A blue pulsating wave of energy shot out and crippled The Doctor, forcing him to the floor and screaming in agony. Stepping forward a pace at a time, Rassilon fired blasts of green energy into The Doctor's crippled body.

"You think you can defy me! Look at you! A thousand years old...you are merely a child. I've had pets that have lived longer. You are not worthy of the title Time Lord."

Rassilon reached The Doctor, the blasts becoming one constant stream and The Doctor's screams becoming a constant cry of pain. Rassilon showed no mercy, the energy becoming more intense with every second. As The Doctor drew closer to his death, Rassilons voice become smooth like silk. He whispered to The Doctor.

"You are released from this mortal coil, Doctor!"

Screaming in pain, The Doctor's vision faded into black. He heard nothing, saw nothing and slowly began to feel nothing. Until, shrill shriek burned through his ears. He opened his hazy eyes looked up and saw Rassilon on his knees, his chest emitting a bright light, energy bounced into his being. The Doctor looked up, turned his head quickly around. He saw what had not seen in a life age. The greatest living sight to a Time Lord alone in the universe, he saw... Himself.

Four of them. Faces he all recognised. Clothes he remembered Voices he knew. The black leather and The Northern Accent. The deep gravely voice and the Mohican. The green velvet jacket and the short brown hair. And of course, the Bow tie.

The Doctors stood, sonic's in their hands, firing at Rassilon. The Ninth stood proud, his war torn eyes stared into Rassilons soul. The Eighth, noble and fair, his hair blowing in the breeze. Eleventh, his eyes full of despair but yet dancing with hope. And his darkest self, a persona he had grown to accept, even admire, burning with Rage. He knew of Rassilon's cruelty, his greed and his lust for power. He was there, at The Academy, when they realised he had turned. There is a special place in hell for what he did that day, and The Doctor was the one to send him there.

The blast reached it's conclusion and Rassilon toppled backwards, unconscious. The other Time Lords looked baffled at The Doctors defiance. The War Doctor barked quick orders.

"Grab him!" He pointed a sharp and bony finger at The Master and looked towards The Eighth and The Ninth. Himself and The Eleventh rushed towards The Tenth. The Eleventh outstretched a hand to his younger self.

"On your feet old Friend" The War Doctor spoke softly. "We have work to do"

"This is impossible..." The Master barked as he was dragged to his feet by The Ninth and The Eighth.

"You shouldn't be here" The Tenth spluttered. He looked at The War Doctor "You shouldn't remember..."

The War Doctor dismissed the remarks with a shake of the head and a wave of the hand. "I'll explain later. Quickly, back to The TARDIS, can you walk?"

"I'm fine" The Tenth responded.

"Well then..." The War Doctor said with a smile "Allons-Y."

The Eleventh winked at The Tenth and a smile came across his face. The three of them turned and ran for the door. The Eighth gave a swift blow to the back of The Master's head, knocking him unconscious.

"Nice" The Ninth admired as the quickly followed their older selves.

"Hang on!" The Tenth cried as he reappeared in the room. He quickly soniced the glass doors to the left and unlocked Wilfrid from the control room and disappeared behind the doors. Wilfrid, bewildered wander out into the room.

"What the bloody 'ell was that about?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Hello, We're The Doctor. (Part One)

The quiet hum of the TARDIS filled the air. The Eighth Doctor sat in a leather bound armchair in the grand drawing room that was his console room. He held a shaving mirror in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. He clipped at the last long lock of now deep brown hair.

"There we are. That's better." He spoke to himself. "That's the last time I try using the sonic to change course, eh old girl?"

The Doctor rose to his feet, quickly swiping away the folded cotton napkin he had tucked into his neckline. Moving over to the console, He fiddled with dials and switches before sliding the large lever on a side panel to the left. Catching a glance at his reflection in glass covering The Time Rotor, The Doctor inspected his now aged face. He had been running from the war for a long time and it had clearly taken it's toll. He looked down at his dark frock coat.

"I guess the coat's not the only thing that's looking a little worn. What do you suggest dear?"

The TARDIS reacted by flicking a switch and moving a bookcase that surrounded the room. Behind it, stored away, were the outfits of his previous incarnations. Highlighted by a small dim light, was the multicoloured jacket of his Sixth self.

"Oh must I" The Doctor moaned as he took up the coat. "I mean look at it. It's hideous and extremely too big. "

The Doctor fed his arms through the sleeves and let the jacket rest on his shoulder. The sleeves hung lower than his arm length and the chest length could be wrapped around him.

"I mean look at it. I just look rather silly now."

The lights in the console room then flickered off. The only illumination was a small glow from a flashing blue light. The visual interface sprung into life. A glowing blue hologram with the outline of an envelope appeared. Sliding off the coat and replacing it on it's stand, The Doctor returned to the console.

"A message. Who's it from?"

The envelope then seem to grow a light inside it. A green pulsating orb that shone brightly from the centre.

"A distress signal? Open message."

The envelope opened and the green orb smoothly slid out and expanded to fill the confinement of the hologram. A young woman sat at a command desk. Her hair tied in a ponytail, she wore leather bound armour and a bandolier across her chest. She spoke quickly as the screen crackled and fuzzed.

"This is Draconian Gunship Sierra-One-Four-Niner. We've lost all power and we're on a collision course with a neighbouring planet. We have casualties on board and are carrying a Warp-Drive Centrifuge. Our trans-spacial co-ordinates are Gamma2457, Omega851..."

As the young woman spoke, The Doctor furiously typed the coordinates into a keyboard on the console. As she was delivering the last few digits; the image cut out and the interface faded. The lights quickly switched themselves back on.

"No, no, no, no, no!" The Doctor pleaded angrily as he flicked switches and pulled levers in an attempt to retrieve the image.

"I can save her! I just need the last few numbers!"

The Doctor spun the dials on the console and twisted a valve. A deep gravely voice echoed through the empty console room. A voice that spoke with pain and anguish. An old voice, a voice that had seen horror in its lifetime. It came from behind him.

"You cannot save her. Believe me, you try but you cannot."


End file.
